


A Good Ol' Fashioned Happily Ever After

by Jael, pir8grl



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Leonard Snart Lives, Post-Crisis on Infinite Earth, fixit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8grl/pseuds/pir8grl
Summary: Because the Arrowverse show writers still can’t get it right, and we--and our favorite characters-- deserve better!  (Especially right now.)
Relationships: Sara Lance/Leonard Snart
Comments: 33
Kudos: 101





	A Good Ol' Fashioned Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration between Jael and myself, but the co-creator function is being a bit wonky right now.

**The Waverider**

Sara Lance flopped onto her back on top of her bed with a groan. She really needed to shower and stow her weapons properly before she fell asleep for...oh, the next two or three days. She deserved that--she really, really did. Saving the world was hard enough, but saving the multiverse? Maybe she’d sleep for four days. 

And unless she got herself up and moving _**now,**_ she was gonna open her eyes to find she’d been snoozing for days in her grubby, sweaty suit. _**Ugh.**_ No thanks. Just a couple more minutes, then she’d get up. 

Really. 

It might have been five minutes. It might have been an hour. Either way, she was startled abruptly out of a doze by Gideon’s familiar voice. 

“Captain Lance, you have an incoming transmission from STAR Labs,” the AI announced. 

“Nooooo!” Sara whined unrepentantly, flinging an arm across her eyes. “I just got...I wanna sleep...you know what? _No._ Whatever the hell it is, Team Flash can deal with it.” 

“I really think you should hear this, Captain.” Gideon’s tone was...odd.

There was a heavy-handed pounding on her door, then. And: “Blondie! You up?”

Sara squirmed around and grabbed a pillow, which she lobbed at the door. “Go _**away,**_ Mick!” 

Instead, the door slid open. _Damn_ it, Gideon!

“You need to hear this, Sara.” 

Mick’s gruff voice was uncharacteristically gentle, and his use of her proper name was unusual enough for Sara’s protests to die on her lips, even as she sat upright. 

“Come on,” Mick added, still gently.

She heaved a sigh of resignation and dragged herself to her feet. “This better be worth it,” she grumbled. 

***

A brilliant, happy grin split Barry’s face when Sara got in range of the view screen. “Sara! Guess...well...you need to come to Central City, right now.” 

The Legends’ captain blinked warily at the screen. “What? No!” she protested. “No, I just got back, and I need to sleep, and--”

There was a bit of a scuffle behind Barry and he was unceremoniously shoved aside. And then…an achingly familiar face and smooth voice took his place. 

“Far be it from me to deprive you of your beauty sleep--not that you need it, Sara--but I find myself in an entirely too-small space filled with entirely too many heroic do-gooders,” that voice said carefully. “Care to come and rescue me?” 

Sara vaguely heard Cisco muttering something in the background. More immediately, there was a rushing sound inside her head, and she felt as if the deck had tilted under her feet. Fortunately, Mick was there with a steadying hand on her elbow. 

Sara let herself lean on him. “Leonard?” she breathed. 

“In the flesh,” the voice informed her drily. “The one and only.” 

Sara pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a half-gasp, half-sob. She shot a glance to Mick, who tightened his grip on her arm reassuringly. 

When his captain couldn’t manage a comeback, Mick cleared his throat. “Put the kid back on, wouldja?” he asked gruffly.

Snart raised an eyebrow, but he unfolded himself from his slouch and stepped back from the screen...and whatever surface he’d been draped on. 

“Barry, are you _**sure?”**_ Sara demanded when the speedster reappeared, looking suddenly uncertain. “Alot of people got relocated when the multiverse reset. How can we know…?” 

“Well, he’s definitely not Leo,” Barry replied, with a slight shrug. “And he acts like the Snart we know…”

Cisco pushed in next to Barry. “ ‘Cuz Leo would never steal my wallet.” 

“I gave it back!” Snart...the apparent Snart...protested from offscreen. 

“Yeah, after you went online and put a $165 order from Grub Hub on my credit card!” Cisco protested. 

“I was hungry. And I’m an excellent tipper. Has the gelato been delivered yet?” 

Cisco screwed up his face, twitching momentarily before continuing, going back to the earlier question (and not the gelato one): “As near as Cait can tell, yeah,” he muttered. “He’s the real deal. Leonard Snart from Earth 1. Captain Cold himself. Please come collect him before we murder him.” 

Sara sucked in a breath and tried to steady her voice and sound captain-like. “Gideon, how fast can we--”

“Mister Rory anticipated your response and programmed the course,” the AI told her calmly. “We’ll be landing momentarily.”

* * *

**STAR Labs**

Sara froze in the doorway of the cortex--but she couldn’t restrain a quick intake of breath. That soft, tiny sound was enough to snap Snart’s head up. 

She looked...older, he thought. She also looked like she’d been through hell. And she was still the loveliest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. His mouth crooked up in a small half smile as he stood up--

\--and then she crashed into him, and he raised his arms to steady her, and oh, he’d forgotten how strong she was. Her arms were locked around him, as if daring the universe to take him away again. Her face was buried against his chest. And well...that was new, but Snart thought he could get used to it. 

And then Mick was there, wrapping his arms around them both. And that was _**definitely**_ new. They’d never gone in for the touchy-feely crap. It was the smell of smoke that lingered in all of Mick’s clothing that convinced Snart that yes, this was indeed his partner. 

Sara lifted her head, all tousled golden hair and bright blue eyes. He wondered if she was going to kiss him again, even with Mick _right there…_

(He was OK with that.)

And then she hauled off and smacked him in the chest--at the same time that Mick cuffed him upside the head. 

“Hey!” he yelped.

“Don’t you _**ever**_ do that again!”

Mick simply growled, his thoughts clear.

Snart shook his head roughly. “Not to sound like Rip, but will you people stop hitting me?” he drawled rather plaintively, pulling back just a little. (They wouldn’t let him go far.)

Rather than answering, Sara just let her head sag forward to rest against his shoulder. “How is this possible?” she asked the room at large. 

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Mick rumbled, without letting go. “All the shit we seen? I figure the universe owes us this one.” He paused. “Just take the win, Sara.” 

Sara sighed. Snart glanced down at her, then looked back up, narrowing his eyes and glancing around the room. To his slight embarrassment, he’d totally forgotten they had an audience.

The faces were familiar. What wasn’t familiar was the expressions on the faces. Where he was accustomed to suspicion, if not downright fear and dislike, there was…tolerance...here. Exasperation, but perhaps even a touch of...fondness? The sort of thing he’d come to expect from the crew of the Waverider, not Team Flash. 

“Why do I feel like I missed the first act?” he wondered out loud.

Sara chuckled softly, shifting in his arms, but not letting go. (Neither did Mick, he noticed.) “That is a very long story.” 

“And it needs a lotta booze to tell,” Mick added, finally loosening his arms and letting go, then stepping back. (While Sara did not.)

“Hey, don’t you guys have a replicator on the Waverider?” Cisco suggested in a falsely chipper voice. “You could take him there and feed him. So we don’t have to.”

Snart opened his mouth for a witty riposte but was distracted. For Sara--the indomitable Sara Lance--was crying. Her tears were beginning to soak through his sweater. 

“Hey,” he said gently, looking down at her, ignoring the rest of the room.

“You...you came to my room that day, talking about a future for us, and then you went and...you _**left**_ me,” she muttered into his shirt, voice nearly inaudible, sentiment clear.

Snart bowed his head over hers. “I didn’t mean to,” he admitted roughly. “I wanted that future for us more than I’d ever wanted anything.” He paused, searching for the words. “But then...I found something I wanted even more. I wanted--no, I _**needed**_ \--to know that you were safe. I didn’t want to die, but I was...OK with it, if it meant that you survived.” 

For a minute, the room was silent.

Then: “Hey, Snart!” Barry called from not so far away. “There’s a word for that.” 

“Don’t,” Snart warned him. “Do _not_ use that word!” 

Sara raised her face, face radiant despite the tear tracks. “Hero.”

* * *

**The Waverider**

Somehow, they managed to disentangle themselves from the over-curious Team Flash and head back to the Waverider. Only Mick and Sara had left the ship, leaving the rest of the team captive in a state of extreme curiosity, and returning didn’t assuage that curiosity much, really. At least, not for most of the team.

Ray, of course, immediately lit up like a Christmas tree and approached for a hug, only dropping his arms with disappointment when Snart narrowed his eyes in a glare. Nate simply glared, and Constantine leered as the other, all thoroughly unfamiliar to Snart, team members looked on, but none of them got to do so for long.

Because Sara grabbed Snart’s collar, glanced around at her team, and then promptly dragged her crook off to her room without any further explanation.

She figured she deserved that, at least.

***

Snart hadn’t recognized anyone on the bridge except for the Boy Scout. No Stein, no Jax, no Kendra. Sara had tersely explained that Rip was...gone...and that she was the captain now during the trip back here, but he hadn’t had any chance to get more information.

He’d actually been ridiculously pleased to see Ray, simply because the annoying scientist was familiar and there, though he hadn’t managed to convey anything more than his usual annoyance. It was...comforting.

There was no way he was going to admit that. At all. Ever. 

Because not much was familiar, not now. Sara’s room wasn’t the one he remembered. Not the one where they’d played cards for hours at a time, where they’d talked and...and bonded...and where he’d approached her so diffidently after his boneheaded misstep at the Vanishing Point. Where he’d confessed his hopes for a future with her.

The sheer amount of time he’d been gone (not that he’d had any idea until Cisco, of all people, had confessed it) had made him wonder wistfully if anyone had beat him to that future...and there were, he thought, signs of another presence in this room besides Sara’s. But they were faint, perhaps a shadow of the past, and he wasn’t going to bring that up if she wasn’t.

Not yet. 

Sara closed the door firmly--very firmly--behind her. Then, as he watched, she took a deep breath, and turned around to face him. 

For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

“Different team,” Snart said finally. “Wasn’t expecting that. But then, didn’t realize how long it’d been…” It’d been minutes to him. Well, maybe more than minutes, given the jumble of timestream images that still occasionally floated through his head. But years? No.

Sara nodded, still watching him carefully. Now, for some reason he fervently regretted, she was keeping her distance, most unlike the way she’d held him back at STAR Labs. 

“It’s been a weird few years,” she said finally. “I...maybe you know that, a little. Leo…”

Snart cleared his throat before she could continue. “I refuse,” he interjected a touch fastidiously, “to believe there’d been a ‘me’ on any Earth who was actually a...a hugger.”

Sara smirked briefly, though the expression faded as soon as it appeared. Sadness flickered across her face before she took another step toward him. 

“I missed you,” she said carefully. “I would have given a lot to have you...at my back...during the past few years.”

The urge to add innuendo was strong, but he quashed it. Instead, Snart took another small step forward too.

“I wish I’da been here,” he murmured, casting about for the right thing to say, all too cognizant that he was now within easy reach--and so was she. “Sorry I wasn’t.”

Sara nodded slowly. Had she moved a little closer again too? He was pretty sure she had. 

“I...know,” she said quietly, finally. “I believe that. But that still begs the question…”

Her voice trailed off. Snart watched her intently, trying to figure out the trajectory of her thoughts. 

“Question?” he said finally, moving that little bit closer again. “Perhaps…‘what do we do now?’ ”

Sara’s lips actually twitched. In humor, he was relieved to realize, not annoyance. “Well,” she allowed, “I was thinking, ‘what do you wa…’?”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Because Snart, reminded abruptly of her challenge all those years ago, decided that his best bet was simply to prove himself one hell of a thief. And to that end, he reached out and pulled her toward him, aware of the complete lack of resistance--rather the opposite--and captured her lips with his.  
And then, having dispensed with determining what they both wanted, they set to making it happen.

***

Mick winced as he faced the door to Sara’s quarters for the second time. He knew she was still exhausted from the whole saving-the-multiverse crap, and he’d seen the way she and the boss had been looking at each other when they disappeared. Sleep might be the last thing happening in there right now. But this… 

He shrugged and pounded on the door.

“You have _**got**_ to be kidding me,” Sara’s voice replied through the closed door. Her tone promised pain. Or bathroom-cleaning detail. Kinda the same thing. 

Mick braced himself.“You got a call from Star City,” he called. “From your sister. Uh...the not-dead one. She says it’s important.” 

“Just a minute.” Sara did not whine. Timeship captains did not whine. Definitely. 

She appeared momentarily, opening the door to look at him levelly. Mick wisely chose not to comment on an ensemble that consisted of leggings, fuzzy pink slippers, and what appeared to be Snart’s sweater. 

He also, somehow, managed not to smirk. He was too relieved (and pleased) to do that.

***

Somehow, Snart wasn’t all that surprised by Mick’s interruption. At least it hadn’t been an hour earlier.

He ghosted up behind Sara, pulling a slate-grey henley into place. (Well, it wasn’t like he could ask for his sweater back just then. He didn’t mind.) And then, following her, he stalked the once familiar corridors of the ship with his usual silent grace, noting changes as he passed. 

***

Sara scrubbed her hands over her face as she shambled to the bridge, hoping to look alert--or at least awake--to face whatever fresh hell awaited her. Leonard’s steady presence at her back was a gift she was still learning to appreciate--and barely dared to presume upon.

Despite Mick’s warning, Sara was very surprised to see not-quite-Laurel’s face filling the screen. The short, bleached hair and piercings were a million miles away from the neatly groomed lawyer of her own earth, but...this Laurel was smiling, and that made her look amazingly like Sara’s own sister. 

“Sara!” 

Laurel frowned, then, studying her, and the next words out of her mouth were probably not what she’d called to say. At least, Sara hoped so. She was way too tired to kick someone’s ass right now. 

“You look like crap,” Laurel said bluntly. 

Sara blinked. “Yeah,” she managed, folding her arms. “Saving the world takes it out of me. I’ve been trying to get to sleep for the last few hours, so if you could maybe get to the point?” 

The other woman...no, think it, _Laurel,_ looked briefly abashed. “Uh, yeah. About that saving the world thing.” She took a deep breath. “You need to come to Star City.” 

“Why?” Sara demanded, feeling Leonard move to her shoulder, a steadying presence she’d missed even more than she’d realized. “What’s more important than me getting some _**extremely**_ well-deserved rest right now?” 

She sensed rather than heard Leonard snort, a clear suggestion that rest wasn’t _all_ she’d be getting. (And suppressed the smile that thought brought to her face.)

But Laurel had continued. “Whatever you people did, this whole resetting the universe thing…” She waved a hand. “It brought...some people...back.” 

“Yeah, we know,” Sara said absently, suddenly hyper-aware of Leonard’s presence nearby again. Then, the words sunk in and she snapped to attention. “Wait. You mean Ollie?”

Laurel bit her lip. “No. No, I’m sorry, Sara. Not Oliver.” She glanced away, then back. “But...your dad.” 

For the second time that night, Sara felt herself swaying on her feet. This time, it was Leonard who stepped up beside her and laid a steadying hand on her back. 

“Dad?” she asked faintly. 

Snart leaned in beside her. “We’ll be right there,” he promised the image of the woman he’d never even met.

“Sure.” This other-Laurel studied him a moment, patently fascinated. “Uh, maybe you might want some clothes you haven’t been sleeping--or whatever-- in?” she suggested carefully.

Leonard’s voice dipped, perhaps a little suggestively, to both Sara’s amusement and uncertainty. “No worries. I know how to charm the...in-laws,” he replied smoothly. 

Laurel nodded, looked like she was about to say something that wouldn’t have been amiss from the original Laurel--and then broke the connection instead. 

Probably just as well. Sara looked up at Leonard with shining eyes. “You’ll come with me?” she asked, trying not to sound, well...infatuated.

He smirked down at her. “I wasn’t planning on ever letting you out of my sight again.” 

Acceptable. More than acceptable. Grinning, Sara stretched up and kissed him. 

“Awright, you two,” Mick grumbled good-naturedly from behind them, “Go clean yourselves up. Apparently we got places to be.”

***

Sara was brushing her hair when Leonard returned from the replicator room. She’d settled on jeans and a red top pulled somewhat at random from her dresser. Frankly, she didn’t really have the energy for much else just then. 

She turned to face Leonard and…

_Wow._

Just wow. 

He was wearing black jeans, a smoke-blue turtleneck sweater, and a midnight blue blazer. Also, a smug grin at her reaction. Which, she realized abruptly, included her mouth hanging open. 

“You clean up good,” she finally managed, allowing her gaze to openly drag across him.

And Leonard openly preened, much to her amusement. “Well, we want your dad, the policeman--”

“Mayor.” Sara kept her tone light.

“--to think I’m a fine, upstanding citizen, right?” Leonard gave her a matching (and equally lascivious) once-over. “You, of course, look stunning.” 

“I don’t think any of the guys I dated could ever be described as fine, upstanding citizens,” she scoffed. (And very distinctly refrained from mentioning the girls.) “And I look like I need to sleep for about a week.” 

Leonard offered a one-shouldered shrug (and a very direct blue-eyed gaze.) “I can help you with that.” 

“Yeah...that’s not something you want to say in front of my dad.” 

Another smirk. “I do have _**some**_ survival instincts.”

* * *

**Star City**

Two apparent members of Team Arrow, named Rene Montoya and Dinah Drake, were there to meet them and clear the way to the mayor’s office. Somewhat to his surprise, Sara’s hand was locked around Leonard’s as they approached. He thought he might be losing circulation, but he wasn’t about to complain. 

And she didn’t let go until her father stood and walked around his desk, smiling. 

“Hey--it’s my baby girl!” He held out his arms--and Sara launched herself at him. 

Snart winced in silent sympathy, having been on the receiving end of one of those fierce embraces not too long ago. But he couldn’t help smiling, either.

“Daddy!” Sara buried her face against her father’s...it must be truly her father, right?...shoulder, crying unabashedly. 

Quentin patted her on the back. “It’s OK, baby. I’m here,” he said gently. “Your friends tried to tell me what happened.” He sighed. “I don’t understand it all, but I’m here.” A smile down at her. “And I hear I have you to thank. My baby girl, the hero who saved the whole damn world.”

“That was Ollie,” Sara finally mumbled shakily. 

“That ain’t the way I heard it,” Quentin Lance insisted, squeezing her tighter. “My daughter the...what was it? Paragon of Destiny?” 

“Daddy…it was a team effort.” Sara’s voice was both embarrassed and rather muffled.

“Let it go, Sara,” Snart advised, watching with amusement. “I for one, would much rather owe my existence to you.” 

“Listen to this guy, Sara. He sounds smart.” Quentin cocked his head to one side curiously, glancing at the unknown. “I’m sorry...have we met?” 

Sara held out a hand to Snart, and he took it, noting gratefully that her grip was less bone-crushing this time. 

Sara sucked in a shaky breath. “Daddy, this is Leonard.” 

Quentin eyed him. “Were you part of this whole saving the universe thing?” 

Snart fell back on formality. He could play such games. When required. “No, sir,” he said crisply. “Much like yourself, I was, well...dead until recently.” 

“Leonard was part of the original crew of the Waverider. He...died...saving us all,” Sara explained, voice still a touch muffled.

“Another hero,” Quentin said with warm approval, apparently failing to notice Snart’s wince. “You know, I used to wonder about those crooks and delinquents you usta hang out with,” he told his daughter. “I’m glad you met this guy.” 

Leonard carefully schooled his features and extended his free hand. Quentin clasped it firmly. The two men eyed one another, old instincts noting close-kept secrets and weaknesses. In another lifetime, they’d have been sworn enemies. And then they both looked to Sara, smiling radiantly between them. She’d saved them. She believed in them. Both of them. 

And for that, Leonard wouldn’t even think of messing with it.

Quentin eyed his daughter fondly. “You look tired,” he told her gently. “Don’t they feed you on that spaceship?” He glanced around. “And where’s your sister? We should all go get something to eat. A good ol’ fashioned happily ever after deserves celebrating.”

Laurel slunk out from wherever she’d been lurking, an expression on her face that suggested that she still wasn’t sure she was welcome here. Or that she wanted to be. But really did at the same time. Snart understood completely, in his own way.

“Hi. I’m Laurel,” she said, mostly to Snart. “We talked. Sort of.” She eyed him appreciatively. “Wow. You clean up good.” 

Snart smirked. Sara just raised an eyebrow. 

Laurel took a deep breath. “You know I’m not really--”

Sara interrupted her firmly. “Yeah. You are.” She slung an arm around Laurel’s shoulders, then another around her dad’s. Then she smiled at Snart, an expression full of...he squirmed, but couldn’t restrain a smile.

“Now, let’s go celebrate.”


End file.
